


Gifts of the Season

by Ivorysilk



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivorysilk/pseuds/Ivorysilk
Summary: With seemingly endless deadlines and evening events, Tony is getting more and more tired and sick as the holidays approach--but Steve has his own crazy schedule to manage.  With Christmas only a few days away, will Tony ever get a few moments together with him?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inukagome15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inukagome15/gifts).



> This is mostly fluff, with a teeny stab of h/c and a small dash of angst, and was written for the 2016 Holiday Exchange. inukagome15, I really hope this was something like what you wanted! Best wishes for the holidays :-)
> 
> Many, many thanks to the very fabulous Robin_tCJ, without whose invaluable help and beta'ing this would not have been completed, and who wrote most of the end for me! Thank you --you are the awesomest and bestest. All remaining errors are my own.

**********************************

It was raining.  Steve hated winter rain—harsh, cold, biting spikes of water that turned everything to hard, unforgiving ice, and he wished he’d arranged to have his meeting in the Tower, and not blocks away in this dingy government office with its small windows and beige carpet.  But he was trying to separate himself from Tony—to be more independent, to be more—something.  Tony had this whole life—an identity, a name, a company to run, a home—and sometimes Steve felt like—well.  He needed to learn to be his own man, and if, on occasion, that meant he had to walk to government buildings in the freezing rain and then shiver through boring meetings in a small windowless office, well then—

“Don’t you agree, Captain?”

“Uh, of course, sir,” replied Steve, while having no idea what the guy was droning on about.  He had come to the meeting as a liaison for S.I. to discuss prosthetics for veterans.  After some discussions with Sam and the Veterans Affairs office that he volunteered at, Steve had discussed some issues with Tony, and Tony had said that he would talk his Board into dedicating a small division of S.I. to biotech, and that he’d be more than willing to enter into a contract with the military--provided they paid for materials and other related expenses--to provide advanced prosthetic limbs at cost.  The only caveat required the vets to provide feedback on functionality over a three year period.  It was a good deal, a great deal even, for the military—but none of the military personnel they were dealing with were willing to discuss specifics of the project.  All they were focussed on was whether S.I. could be persuaded to throw in some weaponry as part of the deal. The veterans affairs guy seemed incompetent and had arrived at the meeting without specifics as to the number of eligible vets or even how many staff persons would be required to administer the program, and Steve wanted to scream.  For this, he’d given up a morning with Tony—

Tony, who had woken up that morning with a cold.  A cold he was clearly trying to hide from Steve, foregoing his usual morning coffee for O.J., clearing his throat far more than needed, and suggesting Steve play hooky that morning rather than going to his meeting—and that Tony would _stay in bed_ with him.

Steve didn’t need to notice how warm Tony was, or the vital signs JARVIS had sent surreptitiously to his cell, to know that Tony was getting sick.  Which was just perfect, really.  Tony had been running himself ragged the last few weeks—Steve hadn’t understood most of it, but some of it had involved a department head who had been misappropriating funds and treating the staff badly (brought to their attention when three of their staff members left, after giving exit interviews which brought to light that their manager had taken credit for their innovations. Apparently there was a fifteen page S.I. policy about that, which Tony had quoted from extensively during a rant that Steve had not quite understood, but from which he concluded that what the manager had done was very bad).  Other stuff had involved the year end, and the auditors, and something to do with financial statements that again, Steve hadn’t quite understood, but Tony accepted nodding and smiling as forms of support before he called Pepper and disappeared into a two hour conversation.  And of course, there had been the endless parties and galas.  They were approaching holiday season, and Tony had at least one, if not multiple, engagements every evening. Steve was of course invited to most of them, and even went to a few—but he ended up having his own engagements, as often as not.  Steve had signed up to volunteer at a couple of places a few months ago, and when word had gotten out that Captain America was willing to volunteer, well, ever since, he hadn’t suffered from any shortage of not-for-profits and charitable associations which begged him to lend them the benefit of his face and name.  Considering how the military had once used him to sell war bonds, Steve was very familiar with the kind of assistance his smile could provide, and if it helped a food bank or a drop in center, well, he wouldn’t begrudge an evening or two.  

Which was for the best, considering that despite the fancy food and the fancy clothes, Tony’s parties and the parties he went to were generally stressful, awkward, and awful.  His weren’t much better, but at least they were for a more direct cause.  He wasn’t going to get into an argument about which did the most good—that was not a good argument to have.  (He’d had that argument.  Tony had ended up flying to Malibu for a week afterwards, and Steve had felt a bit ashamed of himself—it wasn’t Tony’s fault he was rich, and Tony did make sure that both his charitable foundation and his company did a lot of good for people and the world.  Steve didn’t understand everything the company did, and he when he’d calmed down, he’d realized he wasn’t really in a position to judge.)  Although the results of the argument were that Tony tried to involve Steve a bit more in his world—and Steve agreed.  Hence the very boring meeting today.  

Nevertheless, Steve was concerned about how little rest Tony was getting over the last little while—and how little food.  Tony barely ate during the day, and despite the lavish meals, he barely ate at those parties, and he barely drank—as Tony had explained, he couldn’t afford to spend too much time eating, and he couldn’t afford to drink during them either, not really.  The end result was that Tony spent most of the day running around from meeting to meeting, and spent most evenings shuttling between events and working very hard at appearing relaxed and amused, while he actually spent most of the evening stressed and on edge.  It was no surprise that he was getting sick—and, Steve realized with a pang—the humid, cold weather probably meant that with the arc reactor, he was in a fair bit of pain too.  

Still—it was already Thursday, and they’d have time enough to rest over the actual holiday, he supposed.  Sure, there was Christmas stuff—a Friday night party for the Maria Stark Foundation, and a Christmas Eve dinner Tony was throwing for the team; Steve had volunteered Christmas morning at a soup kitchen Sam was running for Christmas lunch, S.I. marketing was running a whole campaign on Boxing Day and Tony had already planned to spend some time with his R&D staff on Monday, but it was the holidays.  There would be time enough to enjoy themselves, in between everything else.  It was Christmas.  There had to be. 

********************************

There wasn’t.  

“I don’t wanna!”  Tony said the next evening, sounding like he was exactly five.  Being dressed in sweats and lying on his bed as he said it didn’t help.

“I thought you said this guy was an important business connection?” asked Steve reasonably.

“He is, but the event is in Chicago, Chicago is sooo faaarrr, and I don’t wanna, stay with me, pleeeasse Steve, you know I’d make it worth your while …”  Tony leered up at Steve, but then followed it up by lunging closer, pulling Steve toward him by the lapels, and moving towards the buttons of his shirt as he knelt up on the bed.

Steve slapped his hands away, pushing Tony very slightly.  Tony tumbled on to the bed with little resistance, sprawling there and grinning up at Steve in what was a clear attempt at seduction but marred by Tony’s genuine amusement at Steve’s blushing.  “Stop that, I have the children’s hospital fundraiser tonight, I have to go …”

Tony looked a mite chagrined.  “Oh, right, I said I couldn’t because of the Thompson-Major thing.”

“Exactly,” replied Steve, trying not to huff.  Tony had made a tiny stain on his dress shirt.  “You said it was really important you go, you can’t actually skip it now.”

“Too late!  I would have had to catch the jet two hours ago.  Come on, Steve, you, me, a whole night to ourselves …”  

“No, Tony, you know I can’t.  But why don’t you come with me?  You made a huge donation, and you already bought a ticket, they’d be thrilled to have you come, you know that.”

“I … “ and now Tony looked uncomfortable.  “I actually -- I’m not feeling that hot, Steve.  I mean, I’m hot, of course I am, but--I think I need a night off.”  

“Oh.  I thought you were feeling better?”  Come to think of it, Tony smelled a bit … off.  He hadn’t felt warm, but Steve had come to realize that after a lifetime of practice, Tony was _very_ good at hiding his weaknesses.  

“Yeah, sure, and you know, I took something, but I still--it’s been a crap few weeks, Steve.  It really has, and I just--” he paused, then added in a rush, “you sure you can’t stay?” And then, just as quickly, Tony added, “no, wait, of course you can’t, forget I asked, never mind--”

“Tony,” said Steve gently.  “You know this is important, and that I’d stay home if I could.”

“Yeah, no, of course you would, if I needed you to, which I really don’t, I’m just being ridiculous, I know.  Pepper would have kicked my ass if she knew I’d even asked.”  Tony grinned, and Steve relaxed at it--Tony clearly meant it.  Sometimes it was hard to tell with Tony--what portion was dramatics, and what portion was real.  “Go, go, seriously, it was just silly.”  He reached for the tablet he kept on his bedside table, making a show of fluffing his pillows.  “I’m going to lounge around--hey, I used to have a reputation for being unreliable, don’t worry, it’s totally part of my charm.”

“Yes, right, charm, that’s what you call it nowadays?”  Tony made a face at him, and Steve laughed.  “Okay, as long as you’re sure,” said Steve as he strode towards the door, smoothing out his shirt.  Just as he walked out, however, a flash of something occurred to him, and he turned back.  “Tony,” he said seriously, “you know I’d stay if you really needed me, right?”  

“Oh my god,” groaned Tony,  not even looking up from his tablet, “Would you leave already?  I’ve got things to do.”

“Sir is playing very important video games,” intoned JARVIS.

“Hey!” cried Tony.  “This is important QA work!  I get no respect ...”  

With one last chuckle, Steve finally left, closing the door behind him.

***************************

Tony was still on his tablet when Steve returned, but with one look, Steve could tell Tony was really sick.  His breathing had a distinct rasp to it, and the room was too warm.  “JARVIS, lower the temperature.  Tony, why aren’t you asleep?  It’s really late.”

“JARVIS, no, _raise_ the temperature, why is this room drafty, I thought I paid for better design and just a few more minutes, Steve, I--I have to do these reports, they’re really overdue, and since I skipped the Chicago thing I thought--”

“Temperature now lowered to 73 degrees Farenheight”, intoned JARVIS, and Steve silently thanked him even as Tony frowned and opened his mouth, but Steve beat him to it.

“Tony, come on, it’s time for bed.  It can wait.”  Steve pulled off his jacket and tie, going up to Tony and putting one hand on Tony’s forehead.  “JARVIS, has he taken anything for this?”

“Yes, sir has taken the prescribed amount of acetaminophen, along with a decongestant and expectorant,” JARVIS informed him, and Steve frowned.  That meant that Tony’s cold was getting worse, if the medication was not helping.  

“I took Tylenol Cold, is what he means,” said Tony, sounding only slightly congested, but Steve really didn’t like the wheeze to his breathing, or the fever.  

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” demanded Steve, changing for bed quickly while he spoke.  

“Actually, I did,” reminded Tony.  “Relax, Steve, it’s just a cold.  You know they sometimes hit me hard.”  

Steve did know.  He just--Tony was so good at pretending, and Steve had clearly believed what he’d wanted, and Tony had wanted him to.  “Tony, I told you I’d stay if you needed me.”  
  
“I needed to do paperwork, Steve--you’d have just distracted me.  In a good way, mind, but seriously--I needed to get it done, if I want to take time off this weekend.  It’s why I stayed back in the first place, well, in part.” 

“You’re sick, and it’s Christmas.”  Surely everyone, even Tony, took time off then.  

“Yes, and this paperwork is a month overdue.  Besides, you’re busy most of the weekend, anyway.”

“Not too busy for you,” protested Steve.  “I’m never too busy--”

“Hey,” said Tony, looking up and smiling, “I’m not saying that.  Stop getting all worked up, Cap.  It’s fine.  Besides, the Maria Stark Foundation gala is tomorrow, and we’re going together, right?  So we’ll hang then.  I just need to sleep this thing off, no problem.  Be fine in the morning, don’t worry.  I’m not going to let this ruin our plans for Christmas.”

Steve smiled back, but inwardly, he cringed.  They hadn’t actually discussed any specific plans, and everything was pretty busy--but they’d work it all out, wouldn’t they?

******************************** 

By morning, Tony wasn’t better, and Steve was starting to get worried.  Colds could be dangerous for Tony, and Steve wasn’t sure--

“Ugh,” said Tony, rolling out of bed, “Shareholders’ meeting.  JARVIS, can I skip it?”

“No, sir, Ms. Potts specifically said you could not, and you had me upload the agenda yourself.”

“Slavedriver,” muttered Tony.

“Only for you, sir,” replied JARVIS.

“I’m going to demand recompense for my heroism,” proclaimed Tony, as he pulled on his jacket even as Steve asked him yet again if he really had to go.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Tony, “but I’ll see you this evening?”

“I’ll be there,” promised Steve, and he meant it.

******************************

Steve had had to make his own way to the gala, and Tony had planned to come straight from his meeting--but his heart sank when Tony arrived with Pepper, almost a good 45 minutes after him.  Tony was wearing makeup, artfully applied, but nothing could stop the now very audible wheeze when he breathed.

“I just have to get through an hour, Steve,” said Tony when Steve made his way over, frowning hard.  “Just long enough that people see me, schmooze a bit, and then I can go.  Stop glaring.  You’re supposed to look happy and festive.”  Tony had his public smile firmly in place, and for all anyone who looked would see, he was having a fantastic time.  If you ignored his slight swaying and shivering.

“I’m taking you home after exactly an hour, Tony,” warned Steve, his expression not changing a whit.  “Pepper can cover for you, and Natasha and Clint are here too, along with Bruce--it will be fine if you leave.”

“Yes,” put in Pepper, “Please.  He’s been getting worse all afternoon but is too stubborn to admit it.”

“Just a cold,” said Tony, and Steve could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“One hour,” said Steve, and meant it.

********************************

The gala was one of the few events Tony insisted on attending every year, in memory of his mother, and Steve knew it was important.  Understood why, but it didn’t change his mind--exactly one hour later, he walked up to Tony, smiling broadly, and pulled him away from his crowd of admirers.  Pepper winked at him as he ushered Tony out, and JARVIS had the elevator waiting for them to whisk them up to their apartments on the penthouse level.  

“I’m sorry,” said Tony tiredly as they went up.  “I had meant for this evening to be --”

“Tony, you can’t apologize for being _sick,_ ” said Steve, somewhat appalled.

“No, but -- I’m just sorry, is all.  “But maybe we could sleep in a bit tomorrow?”

“No, I’ve got that thing with Sam for the veterans program, we’re getting a lunch together for Christmas for them.  I agreed to go tomorrow to do all the prep.”

“Oh, right,” said Tony.  “Right, I forgot, of course.  Will you--” Tony paused, and bit his lip.  “What time do you think you’ll be back?”

“I’m not sure,” said Steve.  “I’m sorry, Tony.  I thought you’d be busy getting ready for the team dinner party, and Sam said he needed the help, and now I can’t back out--”

“No, of course,” said Tony.  “Not a problem.  Besides, I’ll sleep off this cold by morning, I’m sure.”

“Let’s go to bed, Tony,” said Steve, wondering if he could call Bruce to come stay with Tony if he wasn’t better by morning, making a note to have JARVIS alert him if Tony got even the slightest bit worse.  “We can worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

****************************

After stuffing Tony full of cold medication, and waking up intermittently to listen to his breathing and make sure he took more meds, Tony was thankfully better by morning, if still a bit tired.  The two of them enjoyed some lazy early morning kisses before Steve reluctantly rolled away.    
  
“Stop!” he said, “I have to go, Tony, Sam wanted me there by nine,” and Tony groaned.

“It’s Saturday, come on, Steve, _Saturday_ , and it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know, I know, but Tony--”

“Sure, fine, just--do me a favour before you leave?”

“What do you need?’

“There’s a file folder in the room at the end of the hall, the one I co-opted for a workshop last week?  Could you go in there and grab it and bring it for me?”

“Sure, no problem.”   Steve leaned down to press a hard kiss to Tony’s mouth before he rolled out of bed, picking up and pulling on a pair of sweats as he stood.  “You’ll call if you start to feel sick again, right?  Or need anything?”

“Yes, mom,” grumbled Tony, grinning.  “Just get me my folder, and get going.”

“For a non-leader, you’re so bossy, Stark.”

“You know you love it,” responded Tony, not missing a beat.

Steve grinned, before walking down the hallway towards the room where Tony had said he’d left the file he needed, JARVIS opening the door on cue, and—stopped dead.

The natural wood floors were warm and glowing in the sunlight flooding in through floor to ceiling windows on all three sides of the room, which overlooked a magnificent view of the Harbour.  Steve could see that one of the window panels was in fact a sliding door which opened to a wraparound balcony.  An easel was set up in one corner, beside a shelving unit laden with art supplies, along with a camera, computer, and drafting table—everything, in fact, Steve could ever want; everything he’d ever dreamt of as a kid.  The inner walls were painted a soft white and were mostly barren, except for a single framed painting.  

“Do—do you like it?” asked Tony quietly from behind him, a hesitance in his voice that Steve hated.  “I wanted to you to see it before you went, because -- I was going to show you tonight, but there’s the team party, and you weren’t sure when you’d be back, and then tomorrow you’re going back to help Sam and I just--I tried to clear my schedule, but I forgot you had your own plans, and so--”

“Is that a Matisse?” asked Steve, absently interrupting Tony as he looked around the room.  

“It’s—yeah, it’s the Blue Window, it’s on loan from the MoMA, I only have it for a couple of weeks, but I figured that should give you enough time to hang something of your own up, but you know, you don’t have to, I can—“

“Did you buy an entire art supply shop?  I--there’s Indian Red.  Do you know I once saved for a whole summer just to buy a set of pastels with that colour in it.”

“There’s more than just one shade of red, there, there are--well, I--I asked JARVIS what mediums you might like, but he didn't really know, and so I bought a set of everything, if — if it’s too cluttered, you can get rid of it, or donate it, or something, but — “

“Tony.  Tony, stop.”  Steve turned to look back at Tony, who hung back in the hallway, twisting the end of his shirt in one hand and looking like he was going to bolt at any second.

“You—“ Tony hung his head a little, staring down at the ground just in front of Steve.  “You hate it, I know, I know it’s too much and you’d never use it, but--I know it was a dumb idea, you’re never home, I just—I thought maybe, sometimes, but of course it was—“  Tony was looking increasingly distressed as he rambled, and Steve interrupted just before Tony started telling him how everything would be removed by morning.

“Stop.  Come here.”  Steve held out a hand.  Tony looked at the hand like it might bite him, but nevertheless came two steps forward and put his hand in Steve’s own—not exactly trustingly, but more like someone who had decided to take their punishment with grace, no matter what.  

“Tony,” Steve said, and this time he made his voice deliberately gentle. “Why did you go to so much effort, if you really thought I wouldn't like it?”

“I—I didn’t—I’m not really good at—“ began Tony, clearly at a loss.

“Did you think that I would be angry?”  Steve made his voice soft, not giving anything away, tugging a little at Tony’s hand until Tony took another step forward, until he could wrap Tony in his arms.

“No?” asked Tony.  “I actually—I just didn’t know what to think.  I just—I just wanted you to like it, and I got a bit carried away.”  He buried his face in Steve’s shirt, muffling his words.

“And maybe spend some more time at home, hmm?”  

“Maybe?”  Tony pulled back to look up at Steve.  “I don’t—I mean, not that you have to, but I didn’t know what to get you for Christmas and I just thought, maybe, if you had your own space, like, clearly, that isn’t this, but I know the Tower is big and shiny and modern and not really your style,  and I haven’t put up a tree in our apartment because I didn’t know if you wanted one and then I forgot, and I’m not really good at sharing, and it’s not really homey or anything and I know I’m not good at that kind of thing and everything is mostly stuff I decided or bought but I thought maybe, maybe if you have a space where you could do whatever maybe you’d feel more —“

Steve leant down and kissed Tony.  He took his time about it, drew it out, waited until Tony was less distracted and more focussed on him and the kiss and the comfort in it before drawing back and saying, “Tony, I love it.  I love it exactly like you’ve built it, because _you_ made it, for me.  That—that’s incredible, do you realize how incredible that is?”  He made sure Tony was looking at him, and not looking away, even though Tony clearly was uncomfortable.

“I—I cheated a little, I had Clint find out for me who your favourite painter was, and the curator at the MoMA owes me a favour—“

Steve shook Tony, a very little.  “Tony.  I don’t think you realize how much this means to me, how very lucky I feel right now.”

Tony continued to look unconvinced.  “You don’t think—“ he bit his lip before continuing, “you don’t think it was a bit manipulative?  Because I really didn’t —“ Steve bent slightly down to kiss him, but Tony just kissed him back and then continued right on, “mean it like that, I meant—I just wanted you to have a place of your own.  So you’d know you belonged here.  So you’d feel like you were at home.  That’s all.”

Steve kissed him again, this time longer, making it count, ensuring Tony was slightly breathless before he ended the kiss.  He smirked.  Not only did he have far superior lung capacity, Tony was way more of a sap than anyone would ever have guessed.  

“No, Tony,” he said.  “I didn’t think you had.  I really, sometimes, I really don’t know what I did to get this lucky.  I really don’t.”

Tony chuckled softly, but there was a tone of self-deprecation in it.  “I don’t think most people would think you were the lucky one, here, Cap.”

“Most people are idiots, Tony, haven’t you told me that repeatedly?”

“Well, sure, it’s not like I’m saying that living in my awesome Tower is precisely a hardship—“

Steve kissed him again, only mostly because he just wanted to.  “Most people are idiots, Tony, and most people aren’t lucky enough to have you.  I love you, you know.  I love you without all the trappings, without all the gifts and flash and stuff.  I love _you_.  I’d have loved you if you’d had nothing and lived in a one-room rental, just as I once had, all those years ago.  I love you.”

“I—“  Tony squirmed a bit, eyes wide.  “I just—I want you to have anything you want, you know?  I can’t—I can’t bring back everything you’ve lost, I can’t bring back _anything_ you’ve lost.  I just—I don’t know what I can give you, but anything in my power, Cap, it’s yours.  You have to know that.  It’s yours.”

“Except that the thing I want most, Tony, I already have.  Tony—maybe I don’t say it enough, maybe I’ve been so busy trying to build my own life that I haven’t realized that I’m neglecting the one I do have.  The one that _we_ have, the one that we _built_.  The home that we built.  Our home.  And you know what makes it ours?”

“The really big bed?” Tony leered, but it was half-hearted at best, and his eyes still looked doubtful.

“No, shellhead.  It’s the fact that we’re both in it.  Even if I maybe have been taking it a bit for granted, lately,” and wow, he was coming to realize that he had, that he’d felt so at home, that he had started taking things for granted, “my home is you, Tony.  You, and the somewhat odd family that we’ve built.”

“I’ve told you before, Steve, Clint is not our kid.  He’s not ours, and I take no responsibility for him.”

“Tony?” asked Steve.

“Yes?”

“Was it your intention to give me nightmares while you slept on the couch?”

“Um, no?  Can we go back to staring at the really awesome Matisse I got for you?”

“I think that would be for the best.”

*****************************

Steve kneeled and pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead, where he lay on the overstuffed sofa wrapped in a fluffy blanket in front of a large wood-burning fireplace.  After the last few weeks and that stupid cold, Tony was still pretty tired, and they had a few hours yet before the team dinner.  He got up and stoked the fire a bit, before moving to the kitchen to make them both some tea.

When he brought it back, Tony was half-asleep on the sofa, so Steve just set their mugs on the small side table and pulled Tony closer into his arms. Tony snuggled into his neck, sighing contentedly.

“I didn’t get you anything for Christmas, Tony.  I just--I couldn’t think of anything, and then I got so distracted with everything--”

“I already have what I want,” said Tony.

“No, I mean it, I--”

“No, I mean it.  You’ve given me exactly what I wanted.”  Tony sat up a little, twisting slightly to look Steve in the eye.  “You called Sam, and cancelled your plans, and I get you all to myself until tonight.”

“I’m -- I got so caught up in everything, Tony, and I’m sorry.  Sam said they were over-staffed with students needing community credit hours, and I was so glad I called--I guess I don't need to do _everything_.  I just got so caught up in trying to find a place to be needed, to find out where I belong in this world, that I forgot that I already belong right here.  I forgot that there are others that can and will do the work even when I stop.  And I really had been taking you for--.”

“Hey, no, you haven’t, and you’re busy, and that’s a good thing.  I’m so proud of you, for all the good you do--and I know you’re busy with important things, I love that about you.  I am too.  I’m not--that’s not what I’m saying.  And you’ve got to know that you’ve always been there for me, when I need.  I just--I just wanted you home today, and now--I got that.  I’ve had you all to myself all day, with no place to go.  I don’t think I’d realized how badly I’d wanted that, Steve.  I’ve--I’ve never really felt at home, for so long--and now I get to have that.  I get to have that, with you, and it’s like I can never get enough.”

Steve considered Tony’s words, and--he realized it was true for him as well.  He’d meant what he said. He really did consider Tony his home. The extras – the volunteering, the Stark Industries parties, all of that was important, all of it had its merits, but none of it, to Steve, was as important as this. As important as the connection he felt between himself and Tony. As important as their love.

Even when Tony was driving him crazy, he really was most at peace when they were together.

Steve looked around the room, the amazing penthouse studio that Tony had built just for him.  His gaze lingered on the easel, and he wondered if Tony would mind if he got up and painted for a bit--it was so tempting, and Tony, lying there, was the perfect subject.  But he had a confession to make, first.  Returning his gaze to the dancing flames, he kept his eyes on them as he said, “If I’m honest, Tony, it's not just about what you wanted--I _need_ this as much as you do," he said softly.  "I just sometimes forget, and have to be reminded.  Every now and again, I forget that life is sometimes more than just what I'm supposed to do, more than duty and responsibility and--and yes, if you ask me later, I'll deny I ever said that,” he whispered, grinning and brushing his lips across Tony’s temple gently, "you don't need the encouragement."

For a moment, the room was silent, but for soft breathing and the crackling of the fire.  Steve glanced down, a little self-conscious and surprised at the lack of retort, before a gentle smile spread across his face.  It was just as well he’d admitted it--Tony was already asleep.

_*******************************_

 

**Author's Note:**

> The End! Thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoyed it. Happy Holidays!


End file.
